Birth and Birthdays

It’s my birthday week! Yes, I was a December baby. For some people, December birthdays even closer to Christmas means that your special day gets blended in with the holiday. Some people feel a bit cheated out of their special moment, while others say it means at least their family has come into town for the holiday and can say “happy birthday” while they are there. 

So, what do you do for your birthday? Does it feel like a special day to you? I’ve had a great week celebrating my birthday this year. My kids and I had a nice dinner out. We decorated the Christmas tree after dinner. I also had dinner the night before and ate lettuce wraps. They were delicious—one of my favorite appetizers. I had another wonderful birthday lunch midweek with a friend and celebrated with another friend yesterday. I had the best spinach quiche with cranberry salad and poppy seed bread. Celebrating with people I love and enjoy being around has been fun. 

If you look up the history of birthday celebrations, you can get several different opinions on when the tradition began. It seems that around the late 1800s, middle-class Americans started celebrating birthdays in their families. We have some journals and letters that include details about a cake being baked or families cooking a special dinner. Friends were invited to festivities at times. Now, birthday celebrations can be quite extravagant, especially for children. You hear of parents renting out a gym or a special location and pay someone to cater the event and entertain the kids. 

My new interest has been researching how birthdays are celebrated around the world. I’m not going to talk about that today because I’m just now getting into the research. I don’t want to give out any information that I haven’t verified yet. 

I have looked up other historical examples of birthdays being celebrated. Many historians say that Egyptians were the first ones to start the birthday party tradition. Supposedly, though, they weren’t celebrating their actual physical birth. When a Pharoah was crowned, they became a god to their people. Their “birthday” then was a spiritual birth recognizing their new life as a god. Other religious groups also talk about being “born again,” but this rebirth is available to their members, not just a leader. The denominations of the Anabaptist, Moravian, Methodist, Quaker, Baptist, Plymouth Brethren and Pentecostal Churches along with all other evangelical Christian denominations have the doctrine of being born again as one of their core beliefs. Just as with the Pharaohs of Egypt, this is a spiritual rebirth. 

Many denominations also have “coming of age” celebrations. Jewish boys and girls celebrate their Bar and Bat Mitzvahs at age 13 and 12 in order to demonstrate their commitment to their faith  Rumspringa marks the time when youth in the Amish community turn 16 and are able to enjoy unsupervised weekends away from family. In many parts of Central and South America, young girls celebrate their Quinceanera when they turn 15 years old. American youth celebrate their Sweet 16 birthdays. The Apache Tribe’s coming of age ceremony happens when a young Apache girl hits puberty, in celebration of her transition to womanhood.

Thinking about birthdays and births and rebirths made me think about all of the ways we change in life. I hear people compliment other people and say, “Wow, you haven’t changed at all since high school or college.” Their intention is to comment on our looks and imply that we still have our youthful features. 

I’m certainly glad I’ve changed since both high school and college! Sure, I’m greying now and have a few wrinkles popping up, but I’m not worried about that part of aging. What I am thankful for is the emotional and intellectual growth we all go through if we are lifelong learners. I look back on my life and see so many ways I have changed and matured. 

I’ve learned better communication skills. I grew up in a family that didn’t communicate emotions in a healthy way. I learned from others to either stuff your emotions inside of you or allow your emotions to take over and cause you to explode in anger at times. Regrets come with both of those choices. 

I’ve learned to be more open to diversity. I didn’t grow up thinking about the rights of others. I didn’t grow up thinking about others at all…what someone’s needs might be, what their hopes might be, what their life might be like. I didn’t study other cultures until my social anthropology classes in college. Honestly, I loved those classes so much that I wish I had chosen that as a major. Those classes were the first time that I opened my eyes to the world as a whole and thought about my global community. 

I’ve learned how to love and respect myself as I learned to love and respect others. I didn’t grow up liking myself at all. I didn’t care about my life. I didn’t even picture myself living beyond the age of 18 or 21. I just did whatever I needed to do to exist in the moment. I tried to do what was expected of me. I got married to a very abusive person when I was 21. We were engaged when I was 20. I thought he was right when he called me names and ignored my needs or wants. I thought I deserved everything negative that came my way. It took me a long time to understand that I didn’t have to let him define me. 

I’ve learned a lot about love and healing. I’ve learned about social justice and fighting for the equality of all people. I’ve learned how to listen to others. I’ve learned about grieving. I’ve learned about joy. I’ve learned more about forgiveness.

If we are lifelong learners and if we examine our lives and grow, we will see times when we change. Maybe we should celebrate these new birth moments in our lives. We should celebrate when we courageously discover who we are and live authentically. We should celebrate when we work to get through a challenging time and arrive fairly safely on the other side of the challenge. We should acknowledge moments of success and moments of healing. Birth of our self and who we are comes in many different moments. 

Celebrate who you are. You are loved. 

A Poem: Anyway

Anyway

When I felt broken

and invisible and was dismayed, 

you reached out anyway. 

I have no words to ever repay, 

but I will say thank you

to the one who loved me anyway…

the one who saw me through,

and believed in me

and believed me

and saw me

and reached out your hand

and held on

and embodied grace and love

and spoke louder than the pain

and refused to fear my scars

and refused to chatter away

with the gossipers erasing truth

and constructing tales that fit

their life’s narrative rather than mine

Thank you…

to the one who loved me anyway.

When we feel broken,

love anyway.

–Chris Pepple ©2022

Waiting

Today has been a busy day for me. I had lots of errands to run and tasks to finish. As I’ve moved through my day, however, I’ve also had a lot of friends on my mind. I keep thinking of people close to me who are waiting. One friend is waiting for the birth of her first grandchild; another friend is waiting to see if her chemo is going to work against her cancer. My daughter has friends waiting to graduate or waiting to hear back from a job application. As I took a break from my busyness this evening, I reflected on all of the things in life I have waited on for myself or with friends…

Waiting

Waiting…

for birth…

for sleep…

for joy to come…

for pain to end…

for a loved one to step into view…

for a last breath…

for the gift to be opened…

for the mail to arrive…

for the graduate to cross the stage…

for the door to open…

for the judge to rule…

for the jury to return…

for the bread to bake…

for the pizza to arrive…

for the plane to land…

for the rain to stop…

for the sun to rise…

for the bell to ring…

for the dog to welcome us home…

for chemo to end…

for the hand of a friend…

for the sound of laughter…

for the movie to start…

for the dance to begin…

for you to take my hand…

for the waiting to end…

©2018. Chris Pepple

 

The Days

This was written for a dear friend who shared her thoughts with me…I heard you…I’m so sorry for the sorrow and struggles you are facing…Just know I heard you and I love you…I put some of your words into a poem:

The Days

 

The days pass by so quickly

Some without the joy

I thought I would always carry with me…

I try to recapture it

by hearing your voice call my name

as you did all through my childhood…

calling me for meals or church

or to remind me of a chore…

calling me to share news

or just to check in

You walk with me

even on days when we

are not together…

On days when I am closed

in an office with numbers

swirling around in a tornadic frenzy

until I gather them to their

cells on the spreadsheet before me…

You are with me when I worship…

Even when you are in a church miles away

or resting at home because

you can no longer make the trip…

You are with me on the drive to see you

in a home that will always fill my heart and soul

with thoughts of family and meals

and prayers and time that seemed to stop

for just a moment when we laughed…

I cannot slow time

I cannot heal

But I can love

I can remember

I can live out

all that I was taught

and hold on to

all that I cherish

and pass along

the stories to

all who will listen…

And I will remember…

And I will love…

–Chris Pepple ©2017

Love Heals

Thistle Farms in Nashville has a quote that they use a lot. “Love heals.” That is such a powerful statement even though it seems so simple. What does that mean? For me, yesterday brought two perfect examples.

First, my best friend in Nashville sent me a beautiful picture for my wall. She became my best friend because we loved each other enough to listen to the life story of the other. We are nothing alike and many times she confesses that my story is so hard for her to understand. She’s happily married-I was married to an abuser who still creates problems in my life. She lives comfortably. I struggle financially because of the past and because of current medical bills for my daughters. The list of our differences goes on. But when I am struggling the most, her “love heals” because she never gives up on me.

Second, when I sent out an announcement about my book, I had someone email back saying she had lost contact with me because she knew of some of the challenges in my life but had no idea what to say. It was awkward for her. But now the conversation is started. She told me what she knew, and I told her what would have helped. Silence hurt. Love heals.

I hope the characters in my novel, Without a Voice, help paint that picture of how love does heal. That includes loving ourselves enough to take the first steps to healing!

Walking Together

I want to tell you a true story. Johnny was my cousin and my favorite person to hang out with as a kid. He was four years older than me, but never excluded me from what he was doing. We played in my grandmother’s attic for hours in the winter and on top of her flat-roofed garage every summer. During his teen years he turned to music. He could play anything. I loved to hear him on the piano. Once, when I was a teen, I told him that more than anything I wanted to play a song on the piano (I couldn’t read music). He numbered the keys in the order I would hit them, and I played The Entertainer!

He died when he was 30–January 1993. I lost someone very special. He died of AIDS. Yes, he was gay, but to me he was almost a big brother, a musician, an artist–he could turn any fabric into bedspreads, comforters, curtains…he died in Key West surrounded by friends and his parents. I flew down and conducted his funeral because, despite the fact that he had been a church musician before he contracted AIDS, no preacher would visit him. The church as a whole…all churches I knew of…turned away. It was that same year I met a woman in Georgia as she wept. When I asked her what was wrong, she answered, “I can’t tell my church that my son is dying of AIDS. They won’t let me return, or they won’t conduct his funeral.”

When I flew into Key West, a very kind gay young man picked me and fed me lunch. That night two gay men fed me dinner and invited me into their home as a friend. They rented a boat and a group of gay men went out onto the ocean (along with his parents) to scatter his ashes. They packed a lunch for us all. They never asked me to pay for my own meal.

The year before, I had been struggling with serious family issues. The only professor at Emory to reach out to me was a professor who also happened to be a lesbian. She helped me find a Christian counseling group that basically saved my life for the next two years.

During my lifetime, I have been friends with several people in the LGBTQ community. I haven’t thought of it much until lately, because I just thought of them as friends. I didn’t worry about their sexuality. But with all of the news about their rights being taken back away, I can’t help but want to speak up. No one in that community has ever harmed me, tried to have sexual relations with me, tried to “recruit” me, judged me for my faith or my struggles. They have just been friends.

As both a married and now a single woman, plenty of straight white Christian men have invited me to “sleep around,” let them “comfort” me, have a little fun that I didn’t ask for. Some of them were married and asked me to be discreet if I accepted their offer. I turned them down. That’s not who I am.

I get it that for some of you this is an issue of faith–you see a gay person as a sinner based on your theology. Please live out your faith! If that’s what you believe, never engage in a same-sex marriage. I live in a democracy that supports religious freedom. Many of my friends live out their faith differently. Many of my friends identify as Christians also and worship, serve on mission teams, teach, etc. I support their rights in this democracy also.

I will be hurt if my friends lose the right to love whom they choose to love after they fought for that right. They have stood by me when the church didn’t. I will stand by them out of the same friendship and love that they showed me. I am not going to try to define anyone’s theology. But I am going to speak up for someone who wants to grow old with a person they love. That’s beautiful, and it hurts no one!

This is not a theological debate on what defines sin. None of us would ever agree on that. When I was going through my divorce, I had plenty of people quoting Scripture to me and telling me how sinful I was. And for friends remarried, many Christians believe a second marriage is a sin. Divorce and remarriage are legal in this country (even though I wish divorce never had to happen–it hurts many people). I would not have survived my marriage if it had not ended.

But nowhere does Jesus tell me to legislate what I define as sin. And if I could, I would legislate most of his words that people forget to live by. Feed my sheep. And what if we legislate his words to the rich young ruler when he said the man had to give everything away? And what if we legislate turn the other cheek? Luke 14 telling us to bring in the poor? Matthew 20, lead by being a servant.

We can’t legislate our beliefs. We can only live them and in this nation we are blessed that we can share them. But this is about the secular world and democracy. I will not legislate away the rights of people I care about.

When I Say the Words

When I Say the Words

By Chris Pepple ©2017

 

When I say the words

“I love you” to my neighbors,

to my friends,

to those I’ve known for years,

and to those I met

on the journey today,

I’m telling you that I see you—

The whole you…all of you.

I am not afraid of

the sight of your scars

or the sounds of your crying

or the knowledge of weaknesses…

I love the darkness of your

chocolate-colored skin

and the depth of brownness

in your soul-revealing eyes…

And I also love

the desert-kissed skin of

you, my friend, with

your deep black hair and

your chestnut-colored lips

that highlight the smile

that draws us all

into your joy…

And you with the

terra-cotta blush and

the laughter in your eyes…

And you with the

sand-colored hands

and green eyes

that disguise your mischief…

And you with the

ivory unblemished skin and blue eyes…

Or you—the one who wears your age

and shows your leathery arms

as you toil again through the day…

And you as you paint with the sunrise

or sing well past the sunset

or dance with the wind

or hum quietly as you write

or cook like your grandmother

the buttery-rich comfort food

or you—the one who adds

the spice that kicks in with each bite.

I love you

because you are like me—

You seek joy,

follow hopes,

love deeply,

daydream,

toil,

fear…

I love you

because you are different—

You sing a different song,

dance to a different beat,

create with a different style,

love in a different way,

toil using your unique gifts,

fear a different enemy…

I see you—the whole you…

And celebrate us all today…

 

By Chris Pepple ©2017